The What If?
by Iresol
Summary: Yet, another Sanderson fic. After Hoot's death. Sanderson remembers a distinct memory and wonders what if. Insightful huh? There is some swearing. A Black Hawk Down Fic


_**Authors Note. Hi all! Well, I have finished my finals and have a few months off, so I am going to work on my fanfic! Woohoo! I got the idea whilst working on my current Sanderson fic and have not been able to work it in, and have decided to just writ it. So I have had a spiffy idea, it's just a one shot. A long one shot. So, read and enjoy, review too! Also, my brothers computer has no spell check! Sorry:) Also, this is a post-Hoot story.**_

It was late as Sanderson nosed through his medical records, looking for long old paperwork. Paperwork that he had not seen for years. He was on the hunt for a record of his immunizations. A record that he could have easily gotten, but, the fact that he had managed to loose the papers, that annoyed him. Which was why he had been digging through a large plastic tuppleware container. The container held every piece of paper that he or Diana would need, but nothing more.

Nothing incriminating.

Nothing directly related to his job.

Nothing that placed him anywhere or doing anything.

Everything was in piles.

There were piles everywhere as Sanderson looked over the paperwork, piece of paper by piece of paper.

Sitting cross legged on the floor with nothing more then a pair of boxes and a t-shirt. His hair stood up in every direction. Sanderson dropped a couple papers on one of the piles to his left, and then he reached in the box, digging out a handful of papers.

The date on the top surprised him, **1980**.

The location of the hospital brought back memories that had long ago faded. **Daytona Beach, FL**.

Staring at the paper he could remember Hoot's begging and whining, "_C'mon man! It's only a few day's away. We can drive down ere and have some fun, then we can race home. C'mon! You know ya wanna!"_

He could remember the two of them leaving the Ranger Base and driving like mad men for the border, a car full of Army Rangers. A three day weekend fiesta. Spring Break. A guaranteed good time.

His blue eyes scanned over the hospital statement. The nurses handwriting seemed oddly familiar, yet he couldn't quite place it. Reading what happened brought a smile to his tired face. He could remember exactly what happened.

_The humid night air made even the four Rangers sweat. The fact that they had had a few also contributed a little bit. Only under the influence of one or two, Sanderson and Hoot carried a unconcious Ranger. Sanderson held the passed out man under his arms, while Hoot held the man around his ankles. The other Ranger, Smitty, shone the flash light everywhere that the two Rangers weren't._

_"Fuck man! Shine that over'ere! I can't see shit! We ain't never gonna find that shark. And I didn't put him in'a dress for nuthin," Hoot spat, pulling Sanderson to a stop. Making Sanderson stumble._

_Smitty shone the flashlight in Hoot's eyes, then snickered, "Fine. Damn Hoot, you're not fun when I'm drunk. You should have a few more...dozen."_

_Hoot stuck his tongue out._

_Then the three men gagged, the aroma of dead rotten fish floated by them. _

_"Damn! Will you two women hurry up! I have to get back to the hotel, that hostess was checking me out," Sanderson cried, feeling the feet get heavy._

_Hoot turned and shoved the drunk Ranger in his arms forward, knocking Sanderson forward and off the wooden dock. The Rangers head smacked onto the wooden dock._

_Hoot dropped the rest of the Ranger and ran to the edge of the dock, "**Sanderson**!"_

_Smitty shone the light straight down through the dock, at his feet, shining the light a good ten feet away from Sanderson in the water. _

_"Sanderson! Yo! Where y'at? Sanderson? Did you drown?"_

_"Can you see him," Smitty asked, shining the flashlight at Hoot's butt._

_A gasp came from the cold ocean. Along with a shriek and a screech, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Something bit me! I'm bleeding! I'm fucking bleeding! I'm dying!"_

_Hearing Sanderson's scream Hoot climbed to his feet and jumped off the wooden dock, through the dark night sky, close to fifteen feet down into the cold Atlantic Ocean. When he hit the water and plowed through the salty ocean he began to kick his feet, kicking his way to the surface. _

_The moon cast enough light down that Hoot spotted his friend and fellow Ranger, clinging to a wooden barnicle covered post._

_"I'm bleeding," Sanderson shrieked._

_Hoot swam over to his friend, eyes looking for a shark. "Where? Where're ya bleeding? Y'a'ight?"_

_"No I am not all right! I'm bleeding! On my leg, oh my God, it's on my leg! I'm going to bleed to death!"_

_"Where ya bleedin? Lemme see, Smitty, hand me the light!"_

_For a moment Sanderson was quiet, then he hissed, "My crotch."_

_Hoot paused, "I don't wanna see."_

_Both men heard Smitty walk towards the edge of the dock, and then the flashlight fell a good four feet from Sanderson into the ocean._

Remembering panic he had felt, especially when he had felt the tear in his jeans. It was inches away from very precious commodity. There was still a scar. Softly muttering to himself, Sanderson flipped though the paperwork.

He scanned over the attending doctor and nurse.

Then he doubled back, seeing the name, **Diana McKnight R.N.**

Sanderson knew he had had a couple, but he hadn't been drunk and neither had Hoot. Sanderson let the papers fall in his lap and thought about it, tried to remember. He remembered the nurse had been young, he remembered he had thought she was a knockout. But couldn't remember if he had seen her nametag, he couldn't remember her name, or her.

How could he not remember her, or how could he forget her.

_"I'll be right back man...Smitty wandered off, it cain't be good," Hoot told Sanderson, who sat on a hospital exam table, holding a towel to his bleeding thigh. A worried look came over his face, "How can you loose a drunk man in a ER? He's wearing nothing but a speedo."_

_Hoot rolled his eyes, "Shit man, it was not my turn to watch him!"_

_"Oh! It was my turn? I'm bleeding! I can't be held responsible for babysitting a drunken man while I'm bleeding to death!"_

_Hoot pointed, "I'll be back...don't go anywhere."_

_Sanderson rolled his eyes, he stayed on the table and watched Hoot sneak out, off to find their drunk friend and fellow Ranger._

_He took a deep breath and looked down at the towel. All he had on was a towel, he had to strip and put a hospital gown on, and held a towel to the wound. "How the hell did I let them talk me into this. I'm going to die in a ER room in Florida."_

_The door opened and Sanderson spat, Hoot! I swear to God, you better find him before he finds the maternity ward!"_

_When it wasn't Hoot who stepped in the room, but a young nurse Sanderson quieted down, he paled, and then he went cold._

_Not because of blood loss._

_But, the woman who stepped inside the room was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. From her dark eyes, her dark hair pulled up loosely allowing stray strands to escape, full lips, and a figure that would have made even a gay man take notice. _

_He swallowed and noticed every curve beneath the maroon scrubs. He was afterall, a twenty something year old man._

_She held a chart in her hands and asked, "All right, Soldier, stand up and drop the towel."_

_Slowly Sanderson slid off the table, feeling nervous. Nervous in a way that he had felt in High School around girls. _

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_She shook her head and dropped the clipboard, looking at the cut a few inches away from his package, on the inside of his thigh. The bleeding had stopped. Sanderson looked down at her as she looked, poked, and prodded the area. She glanced up, "It's a shallow cut. You didn't hit anything important, you just cut the skin. Have you had a tetanus shot?"_

_"Yes ma'am, I think so, I've had pratically every shot underneath the sun."_

_"I believe that," she told him as she stood up, unable to meet him in the eyes, a good four inches taller then her. "It's pretty shallow. The bleeding has stopped, it's shallow enough that you won't need stitches. I'll put some medicated cream on it that will help it heal a little faster, do you have any allergies?"_

_Sanderson shook his head, "No ma'am."_

_"Give me the number of your superior, base commander, or whoever. I want to see what shots you've had before I give you anything, I don't want any reactions."_

_At that Sanderson gave the number to her, feeling himself tremble. She looked at him and gave him a smile, then winked, "Put the towel back soldier, I'll be back in a minute, then the doctor will come in, and then you'll be good to go."_

_"Yes ma'am."_

_Sanderson watched her go and then picked up the towel, wrapping himself back up._

Just thinking about it made him feel weak. Just remembering made him chew on his lip, Sanderson looked one last time at the names. He then put the paper down.

A sleepy voice came from behind him, "What are you doing? It's almost two in the morning."

He looked and saw Diana. Wondering how he never placed her as the nurse. She still had the same vibrant eyes, the same dark hair, and the same womanly body. It wasn't hidden under uniform unflattering scrubs but a simple powder blue wife beater and a pair of sweat pants, a far cry from lacy panties.

Yet, the nervousness was no longer there. He didn't feel scared or intimidated. A far cry from the frightened young Army Ranger.

"I can't find my immunization record," he told her, watching her walk into the room, sleepy. Her hair tousled and curtained her face. Somehow being sleepy made her sexy. She walked over to him and plopped down beside him, placing a kiss on his head. Too tired to be sexy and seduce him.

"It's with all the kids and mine. Remember?"

Sanderson looked at her, "Where?"

She slumped against him, "It's with our passports. Wherever you put them. Come to bed. I'm tired."

Sanderson looked at her, stared at her. She noticed and sleepily blinked, "What? Why are you staring at me."

"You were my nurse."

Diana stared, "What?"

Sanderson patted his paperwork, "When I was in Daytona Beach, 1980, I fell off a dock and cut my thigh. You treated me. Do you remember?"

She thought about it, seriously, then she patted his upper thigh. Exactly where his scar was, "I know." She then grabbed his arm and tried to get him to stand, to get up and go to bed.

"You know? You remember?"

Diana kissed him again, then she ran her fingers through his hair, "I remember. It was my first night working. You were my first patient. I had just graduated college and got signed with my company, and you were my first. Now get up and come to bed, I'm tired."

Sanderson was not ready to get up, he was curious, not nervous. "Have you ever stopped and wondered? What if?"

Almost amused, if she had not been tired. Diana sagged back against him. Continuing to stroke his hair and she rested her chin on his shoulder. "No. It wouldn't have worked between us then if we had started to date. You were too innocent and scared, it was adorable."

He laughed.

He kissed her softly and admitted, "Yeah. I was a virgin until I graduated Boot Camp. Women scared me."

"And I terrified you. You needed Humera. You needed a woman like her...she was a wonderful woman. Patient, kind, understanding, and she complimented you then...but you're a different person now."

Sanderson watched her, he then informed her, "For someone so profane and lively, you're very insightful."

"No one is insightful at this hour. Get up. I want to go to bed. Now."

"You're demanding too."

She narrowed her eyes and grabbed his face. Placing a soft kiss on his forehead, "Good night, Jeff."


End file.
